


Chase

by moth2fic



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:38:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolves can have fun in the city, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pushkin666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/gifts).



> Thanks are due to Fictionwriter for a rapid beta

He trotted down Market Street, tail waving proudly, and turned into Deansgate, admiring the shop windows as he went. Some of them were too high for him to see properly in his current form but Kendals had a wonderful display as usual. The city was quiet. Snow was falling gently and there were halos round the Christmas lights and the street lamps. Everyone was at home, tucked up and even, possibly, asleep. Different, he thought, from his own time, when there would be laughing and screeching youngsters, some in flimsy clothing despite the temperatures, at really late hours like this one. 

He had always shivered when he saw them. Of course, in his furred shape he had no need to shiver then or now, but somehow seeing humans with too little covering over their bare skin, or even with that skin showing, made him feel cold to the core. 

Near the courts he stopped and waited, sniffing the air in anticipation. His playmate was late. He bounced on his paws, disregarding the hardness of the pavement. The game should have started by now. Had he always been this impatient?

A huge brown wolf strolled out of the shadows near the John Ryland library, moving like treacle through the night. Sam made a tiny growling sound just to let his partner know he had seen him and then bounded away.

They chased round The Great Northern, still a rail depot and not yet a fashionable meeting point, ran through St Anne's Square, skirting the church with ease, and headed up to Albert Square and the town hall. Then Sam circled the Central Reference Library twice, just for fun, marvelling at its rotunda construction and at the lack of tramlines in St Peter's Square beyond. 

Chinatown didn't exist yet but narrow streets took them to Piccadilly Gardens, still full of greenery or at least flower beds waiting for spring, without a pavement fountain in sight. 

A quick exit south east took them behind Piccadilly Station and to the top of the steepest road, certainly in Manchester and possibly in England, that Sam knew. He could never remember its name but when he reached the beginning he had to take a deep breath, just as if he were diving into a pool or jumping off a bridge. There were steeper lanes, of course, but this was a road intended for traffic and it was more like a fairground ride. 

Gene chased him down, snapping at his heels, then round and back up the main road where they turned left and found themselves in Canal Street. No clubs or pubs or fairy lights here yet, just a dull gleam of street lighting on the still water of the canal, and some looming buildings that had no idea of the glitzy future in store for them. 

They stopped, Sam because he was finally almost winded, and Gene because he'd caught up with Sam and had him pinned to the ground, belly up, submitting, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a wolf grin that said he enjoyed both the chase and the ending. 

They often finished here and celebrated the street's fame-to-come in their own way, in fur or sometimes in skin. Tonight, Sam knew, would be fur. The snow was falling faster now, and he had no intention of baring his skin to it, even for Gene's sake.


End file.
